


If It Sets You Free

by Lobotomite



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Animal Death, Another installment in the 'Eddie is a great father' line of fics, Christopher wants to have a funeral for a wild bird and Eddie is going to give it to him, Gen, Light Angst, M/M, Soft Eddie Diaz, Written as pre-Buddie but doesn't have to be read that way, nothing graphic - a bird hits a window
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:33:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25424695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lobotomite/pseuds/Lobotomite
Summary: If Christopher needs something for closure, then Eddie is going to give it to him, even with his father's disdain ringing in his ears.He just really hopes he doesn't have to do it alone, is all.
Relationships: Christopher Diaz & Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley & Christopher Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley & Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz
Comments: 14
Kudos: 182





	If It Sets You Free

It's been a long, long time since Eddie has had any negative feelings waiting for Buck to pick up the phone - confusing and messy and heart-pounding, sometimes, yes, but not negative. Not since - he can't even remember, now. Yet here he is, worrying nervously at his bottom lip, so anxious that he actually starts when Buck's voice finally rings through the speaker.

"Hey! What's up?"

"Hey. Um, I was just wondering- me and Chris would really appreciate it if you could come around tonight? If you... don't have anything on."

"Yeah, man, sounds great, as long as you're not cooking."

"Fuck off," he huffs, rolling his eyes at the grin he can practically see on Buck's face. 

"Really, though. Is everything okay? You don't usually- you said Chris would appreciate it? Did- did something happen?"

"We're fine," Eddie assures him, then feels a spike of guilt - Christopher _is_ fine, Eddie knows this is something he's perfectly capable of getting over, but he also knows that what he's feeling right now is real. He tries his hardest to make sure Chris knows that it's good and normal to feel things, that his dad will always listen and take him seriously, so he stumbles quickly into the next sentence, trying to walk it back without worrying Buck. "I mean- he's kind of upset. He's not hurt, or anything, we're just- I think it would help, if you would come, because I don't- I don't know anyone else that I think would... try and treat it as seriously as he does. So if you could, um. If you wouldn't mind picking up a handful of flowers, or something, on the way over? And also maybe, uh... maybe think of some nice things to say about a bird because I'm... I'm not really coming up with much, if I'm honest."

"...A bird?" Buck asks, dubious. Eddie clears his throat, embarrassed.

"Yeah. You are... officially invited to a bird funeral. I guess." There's silence from the other end of the line, long enough for Eddie's heart to start picking up in his chest - maybe Buck thinks this is ridiculous, maybe he thinks Eddie is going too far and coddling Christopher, maybe Eddie _is_ coddling Christopher - but when Buck finally speaks, he just sounds a bit confused.

"I, uh, I didn't realize Chris had a bird?"

"No, no, he doesn't, but this little sparrow or something hit our window. I tried to give it somewhere safe to recover but it didn't make it and Chris is... he's pretty upset." Discomfort prickles at the back of his neck, his father's voice clear as day in his head - _for god's sake, Eddie, it's a fucking bird, what are you crying for? Go throw it out, and wash your hands when you're done -_ but Buck makes a soft noise of understanding before he can start to spiral.

"Poor thing." The genuine sorrow in Buck's voice reminds him so strongly of the wobbly twist in Chris's that his head spins, and he bites down on his tongue, refusing to let himself think too much on how much love the both of them have for everything. "Of course I'll be there, man, we'll give him a great little send-off. Do- do you have, like, a box, to bury him- her? I don't know how to sex wild birds, actually, I know it is, like, _super_ hard to sex baby chickens, but it's probably easier with adult- not the point, not the point, sorry. I have some somewhere, I could grab some, how big is h- sh- are they? And does he want a headstone or- or a cross or something? We could make one, have it in the garden so he can remember that we - that _he_ \- did something?"

"I really, really appreciate this, Buck," Eddie says, hoping his voice isn't too obviously strangled at the way Buck has just thrown himself in headfirst, opened his own heart in sympathy for his friend's kid, immediately sliced a mirror wound as if it was natural to share in Chris's pain when Eddie has to wrench his own rib-cage apart just to _try_ and pass down the opposite of what his father taught him. "Don't worry about it, we've already got a box, and Chris picked out a rock in the garden we're gonna use as a headstone. All we need now is you." Aaand this is why he tries to keep his mouth shut until he needs to say something - because otherwise he says too fucking much. Damnit.

"I'll be there soon. Ask Chris what he wants for take-out and text me, okay? I'll pick it up on the way over."

"I'm not _that_ bad at cooking, Buck," he protests, but even the soft snort of disagreement he hears before Buck unceremoniously hangs up doesn't dampen the warm relief spreading through his chest. He would be doing this for Chris either way, but he can't deny that it feels a lot more manageable, knowing that Buck is going to be here.

"Hey, kid," he says gently, stroking Christopher's soft curls and settling on his knees next to where he's sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table. "How's it coming along?"

Chris lifts his head from where he's solemnly writing out a eulogy, and Eddie is relieved to see that though his eyes are still rimmed with red, there are no more tears making their way down his cheeks.

"It's not done yet," he says quietly, and Eddie nods, squeezing Chris's shoulder when he curls into Eddie's side.

"There's no rush, buddy. But hey, I got hold of Buck, and he says he'll definitely be over soon to help us say goodbye."

"He did?" Chris still isn't happy, but he's definitely _happier_ , perking up as always at the news that Buck is going to be coming over.

"Yup. And he said to let him know what you want for dinner and he'll pick it up, so what are you in the mood for, huh?" 

Christopher's brow furrows and his face falls. A reaction he hadn't expected, especially when he was being given an alternative to Eddie's admittedly lackluster - _but entirely edible_ , despite what Buck says - cooking, but- oh.

"Hey, you know you're allowed to have something nice for dinner, yeah? And you're allowed to have a good time with Buck, when he's here. Being happy doesn't mean you weren't really sad, or that- or that you don't care. Okay?"

Christopher takes a moment, hesitating, but then, to Eddie's immense relief, his face smooths out and he nods his head.

"Okay. Can... can we have pizza?"

"Of course we can. I'll let Buck know - and I'm here if you need me."

"I know," Chris says, voice soft and sure. "I love you, dad."

"I love you too, Chris," he says, pressing a kiss to his head. "More than anything."

\----

Buck turns up laden down with more pizza than Eddie asked for or needs, an actual goddamn bouquet, and what feels like fifty boxes of various sizes nested together - "I just thought it might be nice to have some options," he says with pink cheeks and a sheepish grin - and Eddie kind of wants to cry with gratitude, especially when everything is promptly dumped into his arms so Buck can scoop Christopher into a big hug.

"We tried to help him, Buck," he hears Chris saying while he carries everything into the kitchen. He can't hear Buck's response, but it's a warm, comfortable feeling, completely trusting Buck to say the right thing.

They opt for bird funeral before pizza, despite Eddie's stomach growling and his taste-buds mourning the hot pizza cooling on the counter - Chris wants to do it first, so they do it first. It's kind of on him and Buck, really, not thinking to wait to order the food.

Christopher's eulogy is sweet and heartfelt the way only kids ever manage; Buck manages to be almost as sweet and heartfelt despite only ever seeing the animal he's talking about as a tiny corpse in a box; and Eddie... he manages, he thinks. Eloquence has never been his thing - talking about emotions, _definitely_ not his thing. But Chris seems satisfied with what he manages to get out, and Buck smiles at him reassuringly, and when it's all over, little box buried with colorful petals scattered on top, he's beyond glad he did it.

Because his son is smiling again, without having to pretend not to feel what he's feeling, and has another of experience of being listened to and validated by two important men in his life, and Buck is laughing and throwing his arms around in animated excitement and looking utterly comfortable in their house, in their life. Eddie has made a lot of mistakes, but he's done this right, he knows deep and comfortable in his bones. And he didn't _need_ Buck there to do it, but fuck, is he glad he has him here anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> The actual bird was left very vague because, honestly, the only thing I know about the kind of birds that would be common in LA is that you would be very unlikely to see a kererū, and if I went googling, I would have ended up reading Wikipedia for 5 hours instead of writing the fic.


End file.
